


Lessons

by justbreathe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-10
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 08:19:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/632365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbreathe/pseuds/justbreathe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony gets Steve a birthday gift. It doesn't go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons

"You're gonna love it. It's the best birthday gift a man could ask for." If the grin on Tony's face was any indication, Steve should really be running away, not walking toward this mysterious birthday gift. The previous year, the billionaire had gotten him a car, casually handed him the keys to one in his collection of vehicles from his time. A Cadillac, which Steve had very reluctantly kept. Steve knew he didn't have a habit of making a big ado for anyone but himself, as well, and that only made this situation even more suspicious. But he was willing to give the man a chance - after all, anything was better than the 'feast and celebration' Thor had 'thrown him' the previous night. No, let's not remember that one.

When Tony opened the door to the room, the first thing Steve noticed were that the lights were off, quickly followed by the presence of three other people. He could see them as well as hear them, both senses heightened by his transformation decades before. Reluctant now, he allowed Tony to usher him inside, and even to close the door behind him - and lock it.

Suddenly, the lights came on, and Steve didn't have the chance to react otherwise before he was surrounded by women, each one lithe and flexible as a cat - a blond, a redhead, and a black-haired beauty. They were of different types - the blond curvy and voluptuous, the redhead rail-thin but elegant, the black-haired woman an absolute vixen no matter what time period a man thought in. Steve turned to Tony, frantic, only to see him grinning like the villain in a cheesy motion picture, as hands caressed his body.

"Ladies, ladies please -" A furious blush had alighted his cheeks, and he began to step back, move away, apparently on his own with this one. Immediately the women began to pout and purr at him, little sounds of disappointment, one asking what was wrong, another if he didn't like them. Tony came forward in response, one hand on Steve's back, keeping the man there - although he was straining to do so, as Steve was quite displeased.

"Don't worry, girls, he's just shy. Now, Steve," and Tony gave him a withering look, one which seemed as though Steve was a child in need of teaching, and was met by a piercing, if momentary, glare, "these women are professionals. Relax. You're in good hands, buddy." Instead of a reassuring slap on his back, Steve jumped as Tony's palm struck his backside, the mischievous man darting away before Steve could hit him back. At once, left relatively alone, the girls were against him again, and Steve began to nudge them gently away, being exceedingly careful not touch them anywhere inappropriate.

"Don't fight it, Steve, you'll just make it harder," Tony joked as he filled a glass across the room, but Steve frowned at the girls this time, feeling completely overwhelmed and absolutely disliking it. It looked like he was on his own here.

"Girls, I'm _really_ sorry," he hazarded, speaking as gently as he was easing them off of him. The blond, at least, seemed to realise he really wasn't comfortable, and had begun to back away, just a little, glancing at Tony as if for confirmation that her actions were acceptable. "But you've got the wrong guy here." As the black-haired woman continued to whine cutely at him, the redhead too stepped back, frowning in genuine, hurt disappointment, but touched her friend's arm, and with a glance the last of them shifted away.

"Steve," Tony's voice rose from across the room, an incredulous look cast onto him, "come on. Don't be a wet noodle." Steve's look in return was nothing short of vicious, disappointed, but Tony managed to glance away in time to save him the actual discomfort that look gave him.

"I really hate to run on you," Steve admitted, speaking to the girls again, who had turned their attention back to him but kept their distance. "Is there anything..." another glance at Tony, whose back was now to him as he downed some kind of alcohol, "else, that you'd feel comfortable doing?" From the direction of Tony came a scoff, the clink of ice, but it was ignored. The girls glanced at each other, considering for a moment, and jumped collectively as Jarvis' voice abruptly broke the silence that had begun to stretch.

"Captain Rogers," he began, and Steve looked up, a habit, while the girls tittered among themselves quietly, and Tony made a face in the middle of pouring himself another glass, "might I suggest dancing? I believe that may be more appropriate for you, as I recall you were in need of someone to instruct you." Blue eyes landed upon the group of women again, and after a moment the redhead raised her hand with a shaky smile.

"I can swing..." she offered timidly, and Steve's face lit up, his own toothy beam reflected by all three of the girls. A moment later, music was put on, and once he'd ensured each of the women had an acceptable amount of clothing, the room was cleared, and lessons started up. Tony, seated on the bar, was even pulled into a couple of dances, with Steve as well as with the girls he'd hired. By the end of the night, Steve had tired all four of his companions out, and even sent the girls on their way with a proper goodbye, seeing each to their taxis and thanking them all for a great night. When he made it back up to say good night to Tony, the man was found asleep on the couch, and Steve carried him to his bed, tucked him in, and, satisfied that he had indeed had an excellent birthday, headed down to finish out the night.


End file.
